Roulette
by Dreaming-Of-A-Nightmare
Summary: What goes around comes around, except without the burden of karma; that is the game of roulette. .:. Tringhamcest, Elricest, and some light AlXFletch and RussXEd. post-CoS, slightly altered ending. now a three-part fic!
1. Roulette: One

**A/N: I adore the Tringham brothers. I really do. And Belsio is awesome; thank goodness for the first series' little quirks, like filler characters that become useful at the end of the series. Because, for a while (until I re-watched season 2), I forgot that the Tringhams helped Ed find that church with something from Nash's journal. Heh heh, pretty handy if you ask me. ;D**

**Also. I'm (guiltily) a fan of the love quadrangle of RussXFletch, RussXEd, EdXAl, and AlXFletch. LULZ.**

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_Roulette: what goes around comes around, except without the burden of karma._

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Nobody else understands. But then again, as long as the two are helping bring the town back into prosperity, nobody cares.

Ever since the real Elric brothers left, the two agricultural alchemy-using Tringham brothers have paved the town not in gold, but in wealth by export; they have become, thanks to Belsio's orchards and the sudden growth of other farms, one of the largest exporting towns in Amestris, one of the few who over-produce enough to share with more towns than merely their own.

They grow apples, lemons, oranges, pears peaches, and nectarines. They also grow the occasional tangerine or banana tree, when the weather is decent enough to support them. And it's all thanks to some seeds, some soil, some water, and a little enhancement from alchemy.

The Tringhams have done well for themselves. They developed a cure for the lingering coughing illness from the Red Water, and they have saved an entire village from financial despair, and all is good. All is fine. All is right.

And yet it isn't. Not in the least.

Because nobody understands. And they only act like they don't care, and perhaps some of them truly don't, but the people of Xenotime _know_ nonetheless. They know, and while most of them secretly condemn and wish the two Tringhams out of their little town, they restrain from being too impolite for fear of losing the two skilled alchemists. But it doesn't stop them from being cold once in a while.

"Brother," the young blond murmurs as he tugs on his older sibling's sleeve. "They're glaring again."

Russell sighs and grips his little brother's shoulder. "Ignore them, Fletch; they just don't understand."

They don't understand. That's all Russell ever says, his expression half cloaked by his long, blond bangs. Nobody else will ever understand.

"We should go somewhere else, Russ. A place where somebody _can_ understand, because I'm tired of it here! Belsio is nice, and I like both him and his niece, but…" Fletcher fidgets, unsure of himself. "Maybe we should leave. And you said that you found something that you need to show Edward, right? So maybe we should go find him in Central, and give him what you found."

"Anything to leave this place, huh?" Russell retorts with an odd smile. His demeanor changes. "Alright, Fletch, have it your way. Besides, they have a lot of libraries and bookstores in Central, so we can get new reading material that they won't have anywhere else, so I can't say that I'm not a little excited to agree."

And so they go. They go, they meet Edward again (after a rather embarrassing arrest), and they wait. They stay in Central, and wait to see how things pan out.

Things don't end up going well.

Edward goes missing. Al loses his memory, especially that of the two Tringhams. Years pass, and still, the two Tringhams stay in Central, helping where and when they can, and waiting.

There is a bout of war from unknown invaders who popped up out of nowhere. And then, there is absence. Absence of hope.

And the absence of a black-haired fire-element alchemist and a blonde woman, two who choose to go to the other side of something Edward calls, 'The Gate.' Edward cries mutely over the loss of a respected man and woman, heroes who sacrifice all they have here to go to another world and help keep the two places exactly that: separate worlds.

Pain goes around and comes around. Nobody understands. And this time, for a different reason.

Al and Ed are reunited, and they have another reunion with the two Tringham brothers. They say hello, Alphonse ever distant and polite due to lack of memory, and they swap stories. Fletcher and Alphonse, due to some mistake, are the same age now; fourteen. Russell is eighteen. Ed is nineteen.

The world moves on. Through death and pain, through rain or sunshine, people grow older and people change.

But some things never change.

The Tringhams and Elrics decide to live together for a while, taking up residence in Central. Edward is part of the military, as usual; but like Roy Mustang, he is more than simply a state alchemist, now. And Russell decided to take the exam, and he passed; and he now works below the older blond, a twisted set of roles they never saw coming.

Although there are a few things that both could see coming, one of which being a lack of secrets between them. They live together now, after all.

The Tringhams now know everything about the Elrics; all their history, including their sins. One sin of which they have in common.

"No one understands," Alphonse confesses softly one evening to Fletcher. They are reading together by a fireplace, but they set their books aside. "And not everyone knows, like your village of Xenotime knew. It's because we try to hide it."

Fletcher nods apathetically. "It's hard to keep hidden in a town as small as Xenotime, but easy to hide in a city as large as Central. But what about your hometown, Risembool?"

Al shakes his head. "Only two people there know. Risembool is _too_ small; neighbors spaced out too far apart and out of contact with each other. That's why we could hide it there."

The blue-eyed male nods. So that's how it is. "But you understand us, don't you, Al? You understand my brother and I because you're no different."

It's true. Alphonse nods his head. "How did you know?"

"The same way you found out about Russell and I," Fletcher murmurs gently. "I saw you two once, by mistake."

The dark gold-eyed boy nods. So that's how it is. "Yes, that makes sense. But I wonder: how long?"

"How long what? Have Brother and I been together?" Fletcher asks for clarification, his face tinting pink.

"No. How long have you loved him as more than a brother?" Al responds with similar coloring in his cheeks. "Because… I've loved Ed for a long time, perhaps since I was a kid. I'm not sure."

Fletcher shakes his head. "I'm not sure, either, but I think it's just as long. I've always loved him. I never had a stuffed animal or security blanket to cling to; I had him. I never needed Dad, especially not after he left; I always had Russell." He smiles, albeit a tad sadly. "I feel guilty, sometimes, for loving him so much. Sometimes I worry if I annoy him, or if he wants somebody else, or if the others are right and it is wrong. But I can't stop myself."

The youngest Elric laughs, warm and comfortingly. "Yeah, I know exactly what you mean. I feel the same way when it comes to Brother. But the way I see it is this: if he loves me too, why should I care what anybody else thinks? And besides, we have you two: the only other people who are in the same boat as us, and know what it's like."

Fletcher sighs, but is in total agreement. "Yeah…" He smiles suddenly. "But you know, Alphonse, if I had fallen in love with someone else, I think it would have been you."

Al grins, laughs a little breathlessly, and nudges Fletcher with his elbow where they sit, sharing the couch. "Me too. But we don't want to go making our brothers jealous, now, do we?"

The shorter blond giggles. "No, that would practically be a crime! Plus, I don't want Ed as an enemy. Because you _know_ that I would not even be a rival, I'd be an _adversary._" He smiles brightly, the idea quite amusing to him. He glances over at Al. "And don't get me started on how _Russell _would react! Family has always come first to him, so…"

Alphonse laughs. "Yeah, I know what you mean." He stares into the fire for a moment, his breath caught in his throat. "But… it's an interesting thought, right? If not for our brothers, if not for who they are and how kind they are to us, who knows where we'd be? Together? Better off? Or just as shunned because we're two males? Because no matter how you look at it, I don't think anybody could ever understand the four of us. We've gone through a lot of misfortune and helped a lot of people, even if one side is more dramatic than the other." He sends a small smile. "But it's fun, isn't it?"

Fletcher nods wholeheartedly. "It is." He, too, stares into the fire for a moment. "Do you think… if our big brothers didn't love us… they'd love each other instead?"

Al shrugs. "I don't know. Maybe. But Winry might come before Russell, since she's always been so close to Ed. But who knows? That could be."

There's a moment of silence, and the two nearly resume reading their books, until Fletch says softly, "I wouldn't want it any other way than it is, though. Being friends with you two is enough, and look, we're all living together, getting along – well, most of the time. Sometimes our brothers fight 'cause they're too alike, but that's okay, because you and I are here to calm them down, right?"

The honey blond grins. "Right."

Like a game of roulette, what comes around goes around, the bets placed in the center and waiting to be won. And all the two younger brothers can think about is how they are waiting with baited breath for the roulette to stop spinning, landing them a square, a number, in life, and either giving them their fortune or taking away all that they have.


	2. Roulette: Two

**A/N: Fiito, a reviewer for this, convinced me to write something more. And you know what? I wanted to oblige because I just love these parings too much. So here's a second part, and then I'll make a third as a conclusion. I often do three-parters, it seems. XD**

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Edward Eric scowls as he walks into the living room and spies his brother curled up, asleep, on the couch; with _Fletcher_. "He looks a little too cozy if you ask me," the golden blond mutters enviously under his breath.

True, while the image is a little sweet in that cutesy way – the two young blonds cuddled close, their books half-falling out of their palms and onto their laps, their heads bowed onto each other's shoulders, and the fire in the fireplace dimming to give them a soft, orange glow – it pissed Ed off anyhow.

He's about to storm over there and wake up his brother, demanding that he follow him to bed, when Russell steps in. "Now, would you look at that," the taller male says with a light smirk on his lips. "How adorable."

"Adorable?" Edward hisses in retort, about to make a wise-ass remark. Russell can see the flames of jealous roaring in the oldest Elric's eyes.

He immediately paces over to Ed and lays his finger on the older male' lips. "Shush, we wouldn't want to wake them."

Edward smacks Russell's hand away. "Yeah, but doesn't it make you just a little bit peeved that they –?"

"What do you expect?" Russell shrugs, "They're lose friends, and we live together. Something like this was bound to happen; it's no big deal. But you're acting like it's the end of the world." He chuckles softly as he moves his hand up to muss Edward's hair. "Don't sweat it, Ed; I'm not. I trust Fletcher, and you should trust your brother, too. Now come on, let's get some sleep. It's late, and we've had a long day."

Sighing and flushing a little with shame towards himself, Edward grumbles a short, "Okay, _fine,_" before heading up the stairs of the duplex they're renting.

He pays no mind to Russell as the younger blond retreats into his and Fletch's room. Instead, Ed focuses on brushing his teeth in the bathroom and changing into his pajamas.

"What did he mean, anyway, about trusting Al? Of course I trust Al! Why wouldn't I? I know that he will always love me, but…" He grits his teeth in pain. He hangs his head. "But it's always been a fear of mine that one day he will find somebody else to love in that way."

And Russell is just outside the cracked-open bathroom door, his hand still raised with a knuckle outstretched as if to knock. He lowers it and sighs. He has the same fears about Fletcher. "It's difficult for an older brother, isn't it?" he says through the crack in the door, and he hears something fall as Edward jerks in surprise. The object clacks and slides in the bowl of the sink; most likely the dropped item was Ed's toothbrush.

"You know," Ed says around a spit of toothpaste, "You could just come in instead of listening through the door."

Smiling slightly, Russell pushes open the door fully and leans against the wall with his hands in his pockets. He stares at Ed's face in the mirror with one eye. "But I'm right, aren't I? It's hard. Especially when you want what's best for him, but you want to be greedy, too, and sometimes you even wonder if you're forcing yourself on him and he's only going along with it because he cares about you." He has a bittersweet, lopsided grin still on his face as he, too, bows his head. "That's how I feel, anyway, and we're never that different, are we, Ed?"

"It seems like it," Edward says before gurgling some toothpaste and water in the back of his throat. He spits it out, his head throwing forward, and then rises out the sink, puts his toothbrush away, and dabs his mouth with a towel. He glances up at the mirror when he's through, looking into Russell's visible eye. "And yes, you're right; that's how I feel, most of the time. But what can I do?"

"Nothing," the younger blond says seriously. "Just keep doing what you always do, and if something changes between you and Al, I'm sure that he'll tell you."

The shorter male nods once, twice. But he's not that much shorter anymore; only by a couple centimeters. His recent growth spurt helped, and it seems like Russell never had another one. He stands up at full height and grins his usual grin at the agricultural alchemist. "I'm sure you're right. Thanks, Russ; like Al, you always know what to say, don't you?"

Russell shrugs one shoulder nonchalantly. "I have to, with you; otherwise I get a fist in my face."

"Hey, it was one time! And it was just payback for when you clocked me one when we met!"

Russell chuckles. "I know, I know." He turns and starts to head back to his room, his use for the bathroom forgotten. "Goodnight, Edward."

The Fullmetal Alchemist smiles. "Yeah. Goodnight."

And the roulette wheel continues to spin, the momentary slow-down of fate moving away from the number, the square, it had lingered on; the brink of losing everything.


	3. Roulette: Three

**A/N: Final installment. Mostly fluff, because I really only ever had an idea for a oneshot, and hope that I'm not hurting it by stretching it out for those who wanted it (including myself). LULZ. 8D**

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Alphonse stumbles into his and Ed's bedroom, his eyes groggy with sleep and his neck aching with a horrible kink from falling asleep in a poor position. He rubs out the tenseness of one side of his trapezoid as he plops down on the edge of the Elric brothers' shared bed.

"Well, I'm definitely not reading so late in such a comfy place again," Al whispers to himself, a yawn escaping his throat. "I'll just have to wait up for Brother in other ways." He turns to glance over his shoulder at the sleeping, shirtless blond already in the bed. He smiles warmly before kicking off his slippers and climbing into the bed.

Snuggling down, Alphonse curls up beside his brother, draping one arm over Edward's stomach. He likes sleeping this way, using his brother's chest as a pillow while holding loosely onto him, one of his legs crossing one o Ed's own, and his ear close enough to hear Ed's heart beating.

He sighs contentedly, and wonders sleepily if Fletcher had made it to bed, or had stayed where he was, sprawled out on the couch.

As it turns out, the shortest blond _does_ in fact make it to his own bed. He went upstairs not too long after Al had, having been woken up from Al's movements off of the couch.

Currently the youngest Tringham is rubbing his eyes and nudging his older brother. "Hey, Russell. Are you awake?"

The older blond mumbles something incoherent and rolls over, facing his sibling. His eyes peek open, his bags tossed back onto the pillow. "Hmm? Fletch, that you?"

The younger teen nods and smiles gently. "Yeah, it's me. Sorry, Brother; did I wake you?"

"Mm, not really," Russell mutters tiredly. He pulls back the covers with one hand, the other laying lazily above his head. "Climb in."

Obeying, Fletcher tosses off his green hat – he hasn't stopped wearing it since Russell bought it for him as a birthday present when he was little – and slides under the sheets. It's warm under here; much warmer than the cool temperature of the duplex around them.

"Alphonse and I had a good talk tonight," Fletcher murmurs as he settles in next to his big brother. "We talked about how nobody else understands our love or our big brothers, but we do. And we were saying that we don't mind all of the dirty looks so long as we have our big brothers to love and protect us." He chuckles softly to himself. "But we were saying that if things weren't that way, we'd probably love each other because we're so much alike, and we joked that you and Ed would love each other, too," he whispers he shuts his eyes. "Silly, isn't it? It feels like…" he yawns, "Some sort of big… circle to me. Like that gambling game we saw at the casino Belsio sells lemons for ale to."

"Roulette," Russell utters, his face still frozen on slight anguish at the thought of losing Fletcher to Al, like Ed had feared earlier. But Fletcher said that it was all in jest, right? It's like Russell told Edward before: it's nothing to fret over. Right?

For a moment, while Fletcher's breathing calms into slow, even breaths, Russell wonders if he can take his own advice when their might be some proof behind the elder Elric's fears.

But that's ridiculous, Russell thinks with a hake of his head. Fletcher wouldn't do that to him. And Alphonse wouldn't do that to Edward, either.

Nodding to himself, Russell closes his eyes and turns his head, leaning down to give Fletcher a peck on the forehead. The younger blond sighs happily. "Love you, Brother," the fourteen-year-old says sleepily, his voice drifting off into dreamland.

"I love you, too, Fletch," the older Tringham whispers before he, too, succumbs to sleep.

**xXx**

The following morning is Sunday, the one day that Ed and Russell have a day off in common. Aside from today, Edward doesn't work Wednesdays (he chose it to break up the monotony of the week), and Russell has Fridays off (chosen because it's the beginning of the weekend).

The morning begins as Sunday mornings usually do: Russell and Edward make enough coffee for two, and Fletcher and Alphonse boil enough water for tea for two. The older siblings take turns reading sections of the newspaper, chatting idly while they drink the dark liquid, and the two younger siblings brew and drink green herbal tea, peppermint, while they cook breakfast together. This morning, the menu includes cinnamon rolls with an orange glaze as a frosting.

"Smells good," Edward compliments as Fletcher and Al set plates in front of their brothers before sitting down to their own. Everybody has a glass of milk in front of them; well, everybody except Ed, who has a glass of orange juice. He pretends not to notice. "Say, Al, Fletch: where did you two learn to cook like that?"

"I read how to in some cooking books," Fletcher says over a bite of sticky cinnamon bun. "It's just as easy to understand as alchemy; especially baking. Baking is like science, all precise measurements and time."

Al giggles. "And I learned from Winry while you were away, Brother," he informs Ed. "Plus, I used to help Mom when we were kids, remember?"

"Oh yeah," the oldest blond there replies with a short laugh. "She said that your extra love in her cooking made it taste all the better." He takes his first bite, the warmth and spicy-sweetness of the cinnamon-covered spiral dough coating his mouth. He hums his approval. "Mom was right."

Blushing a little, Alphonse mutters out, "Th-thank you, Ed."

"No, thank _you,_ Al," Russell chimes in, over half of his cinnamon roll gone. "For teaching Fletcher how to make this! It's delicious."

"Thanks," Alphonse replies quietly, turning pinker. He's not used to being appreciated like this.

Fletcher nudges him. "We need to cook together more often; we make a good team."

Edward prickles; he watches as his little brother smiles and agrees, and a slight twinge of jealously flares up again, making his cinnamon roll momentarily difficult to swallow. He clears his throat and changes the subject. "Who's going to go grocery shopping today? We're running low on dinner essentials."

Russell gulps the remainder of his milk to wash down his breakfast. He raises his hand. "I'll go. You went last time, Ed." He turns to Fletcher. "Want to come with me?"

"Sure," the young teen nods once, grinning. He stands. "But I'll clean up breakfast, since you did most of the cooking, Al."

"Oh, well, thanks!" Alphonse says, surprised but cheery. "I appreciate that."

"It's nothing," Fletch smiles. "I'll hurry so that we can leave early and have the rest of the day free of errands, okay, Brother?" he says to Russell.

The older Tringham nods, a smile touching his lips. Ever since he's been out of Xenotime, alone with his younger sibling, near Edward, and in a city where nobody knows his incestuous secret, Russell has been smiling more, and it makes Fletcher happy to see his once-cold brother smile more, the ice melting, giving way to cheerful warmth.

Alphonse has noticed something similar with Edward; ever since Al has gotten his body back and found Ed, and ever since they moved in with the sympathetic Tringhams, Ed also has been smiling more often, and usually in a genuine, warm way. It brightens Al's day to see that.

"Brother," the younger Elric says suddenly, "While they're out shopping, what would you like to do?"

A devious grin forms on the golden blond's lips for a second, unseen by the Tringham brothers but noticed all too clearly by Al. The younger blushes, knowing immediately what that look means, and he can't say that he doesn't want to oblige, because he really does want to. Very much so.

But as the devious, perverted smirk melts away, Ed simply smiles and says, "I don't really care. Whatever you want, Al; it's my day off after all. My time is entirely yours."

Oh, he says that now, but as soon as the two Tringhams are out of sight, Alphonse has a feeling that he's going to be pinned down somewhere and attacked with passionate kisses. It usually happens that way; not that he minds in the least, but Ed could at least be more romantic (or at least more tactful) about it.

And so the Tringham brothers leave just before lunch hour, and don't return until mid-afternoon, having taken a couple detours to waste some time of their own.

The roulette spinner stops spinning. The moment of tension dissolves. The marble lands securely in a square, on a number: a sideways eight; infinity. Good fortune forever. No more risk, no more worry, of important things being taken away.

And life moves on. Through jealousy and angst, through snow or sun; people grow older, people love, and people change.

But some things never change. And there's shelter in that fact.


End file.
